Reminisce
by Jyncx
Summary: Being the Joker is not all laughter and smiles. What's worse is that his former self, Jack Napier, has come back to haunt him.
1. Chapter 1

He tries not to be forgotten. He has marred Gotham, scarred it for the greater good. Well, his greater good that is. He has shouted his name from the rooftops. Laughed through the city's streets until it laughed with him -and stopped afterwards because a certain bat had to be a spoilsport- which ended him up in Arkham where he got another chance to make people smile. He took that chance and crafted with it until he got bored. Guess what he did when he got bored, he escaped.

What does he fear most though? To be forgotten. Who wants to end up with a nameless tombstone weighing his coffin down anyway? Not the Joker.

But..

Why had he already been forgotten?

"What's your real name, Joker?" Batman asks him.

"Tell us your name." They demand in Arkham.

"Who are you?" He asks himself, looking down at his hands.

If they didn't know his name, he'd already been forgotten.

The irony. The man who refuses to be forgotten has no recollection of his own name. He had forgotten himself! He felt like laughing, so laughing is what he did. How could no one remember? How could he not remember? Selective amnesia? No, he doubted it.

He was looking up at the blank ceiling of his cell in Arkham. A room, they liked to call it. A cage, he liked to correct them.

He stared at the shadows surrounding the ceiling and tried to envision staring through a window, looking at a paradigm of raindrops. He shook the thought out of his head immediately. Why would he prefer dreaming of raindrops and their meaningless patterns when he could easily imagine himself maiming the first person who would enter his cell next. No matter how he'd do it. He'd manage.

He closed his eyes and imagined a world where he was king. No, not a king. Let someone else be a king. He'd prefer to be the Jack or something. Or better yet! The Joker! He started laughing. It was a resounding sound that filled the room with lost echoes where they bounced off the walls until they died down. Tragic. So he laughed some more, compensating for his imaginative void of dying echoes.

Jack. He held his breath for a moment. His smile frozen on his lips. Jack. Jack. Jack. So familiar yet so foreign. Must have had a henchman going by that name. So he shrugged it off and giggled to himself, the feeling of yearning heavy on his chest, but easily ignored because he was happy! He was in Arkham! The funny doctors were terrified of him! So he laughed, knowing he would never be forgotten. He was the Joker.

The guy before his time had already passed away. That guy wasn't forgotten. He was simply remembered by people Joker didn't know. Lucky for them.

That guy. He mused. Not a very appealing way of referring to someone, now was it? He would care less if it hadn't been for the other guy who made him who he was today. So he decided to be nice and give him a name. Nothing fancy though. Bob? Too plain. Well, since he was unknown to even the person who saw him in the mirror every day, he should get a fitting name. John Doe?

John. A very very formal gentleman, always eager to tell the next joke. No one really laughed, but he didn't mind. At least, he didn't until his world started to crumble. And crumble it did. It went blurry really fast after the announcement of John's wife having died along with their unborn child. Joker laughed at that. Joy! Such tragedy. He loved a good sob story so he could try and make it worse! But he didn't know poor John. All he knew was the name he just gave him and the life he had lost. Joker shrugged the thought of mister Doe away and took a seat on the cot they called "bed" in Arkham. He sat there for a good five minutes until his door opened. He just glared at the doctor who didn't appear fazed by the unsightliness he must present being the Joker and all. The doctor he recognized because of his coat, but his face was new. The fun he was going to have messing around with the unlucky sod's mind. New doctors were always so much fun.

"Good afternoon, Joker." The doctor started. He was holding a syringe, Joker noted. He hated the man already, he concluded. He hadn't even opened his mouth yet and they were already coming at him with a tranquilizer. He remained silent and settled for just observing the doctor while he edged closer to him as if he was an animal with an intent to kill the moment he felt threatened. Not that there wasn't any truth in that notion though. He did feel corned in a way. So what was a clown to do? Back away and retreat until he hit the wall? No, of course not! He was going to pounce the minute he got the chance. However, with his attention driven to the needle in the doctor's grasp, he hadn't noticed the two guards entering his cell. He gritted his teeth and scowled, an unusual thing for the man who drowned the halls of the asylum in folly laughter on a daily basis.

"I fail to see what I did wrong this time." He told the man, his eyes never leaving the syringe. The doctor stopped moving and held a hand out in front of him.

"I want to try something, but I need your cooperation." He told the clown who just laughed at him with new-found amusement.

"My cooperation or me sedated?" He asked with a smile, his eyes finally straying away from the doctor's gloved hand.

"One or the other." The strange, but confident doctor said. Joker nodded carefully and snickered at the seemingly fearless face of the man in front of him.

"And what is this experiment of yours?" He asked. "I will not agree to something I haven't been told about beforehand." He said holding his hands out in front of him.

"It's not an experiment, Joker, and I would be grateful if you refrained from calling it that." The doctor said sternly. The guards, Joker took note of, were each holding tranquilizer guns. Wait. When had they even entered his cell? He averted his eyes from the dark clad men.

"Have you tried this before?" Joker asked, already knowing the answer. He crossed his arms and took on a sassy expression, his posture changing along with it.

"No, but I assure you. It's not harmful in any way." The doctor started coming closer again, so Joker held out his hands again.

"Wait wait. I didn't agree yet. I need to consent for any treatment, remember, I don't have any relatives you can ask so it's all on me." He told him with a smile.

"I see, but you're deemed incapable of making decisive decisions consisting of any sort of medical nature." The doctor told him, eying him like one would look at a child. Joker snarled and lunged forward, his teeth bared like a delirious animal. The doctor acted fast and quickly administered the sedative, the Joker could feel the sting of the needle. It did little to calm him though, so he started clawing at the doctor who was screaming something the Joker couldn't quite grasp. All he could hear was the blood flowing through his ears and his heart beating frantically in anger. He was offended. The Joker who had the highest IQ of any man currently inside the asylum, if not whole Gotham city, had been robbed of the right to agree or disagree on anything that happened to him within the walls of the asylum and probably even hospitals! He who knew more than any doctor possibly could! That wasn't funny. Even John would be roaring with rage. But John wasn't here. He would need to find him, Joker told himself when he finally felt his body slowing down. His mind started to cloud over and he barely registered the floor meeting up with him as he felt gravity's pull. John was definitely not amused and neither was Joker.

* * *

He woke up with a strange feeling and the overwhelming stench of some sort of chemical substance. One he couldn't quite place. Yet. He was lying in a bed. An actual bed, he noted. He looked around, seeing he had to be in the asylum's infirmary. He had yet to find out why, since he didn't feel any different from normal. As normal as he could be, that is. He thought with a giggle.

"Ah, you're awake." He heard a familiar voice. One he hated. He turned towards the source and found the doctor who had so rudely spoken to him. He seemed a bit roughed up, but still unafraid. Joker felt the urge to fix that immediately. "You're probably wondering why you're here?" The doctor inquired to which the Joker only glared. He was restrained to the bed with leather belts and steel buckles. He could easily slip out of them, but he kept his patience for now. "Since mirrors are too dangerous to bring into patients' rooms, I brought you here." The doctor said. He was holding a mirror with its back turned towards him. Joker could only assume what they had done and felt the familiar surge of rage welling up again. He started pulling at the restraints knowing how to escape, but holding back if only to see if he could get any reaction out of the annoying man. It was a futile attempt though. The doctor seemed to be made of stone. He briefly wondered if this wasn't Batman out of costume. But it couldn't be. He knew the man underneath the layers of kevlar.

The mirror was finally held up to him and the Joker took the image in. His green hair. Dyed an ugly common brown. He was fuming now. Even if the dye wasn't everlasting, it wasn't going to get out easily either.

"It isn't much, but it's a start." The doctor told him, apparently not seeing his patient's rage. A start. He said. A start. Joker felt his hands itch, he wanted to kill the bastard this instant. The doctor, however, had other plans. He came up to the clown with a reassuring smile. The IV, Joker hadn't seen earlier, was connected to his arm and the doctor was preparing a needle. Not this time, he told himself as he started the process of slipping out of the restraints so he could at least incapacitate doctor annoying.

The buckles were tight and he was struggling, he didn't even have the time to get one arm out before a chemical induced exhaustion hit him. He fought to stay awake and get out of his restraints, but whatever he had been given. It was working fast. Strange, with his metabolism, it shouldn't have affected him that quickly if at all. He shared a glance with the doctor, silently promising him a painful death before succumbing to the drug.

 **TO BE CONTINUED**


	2. Chapter 2

He woke up with a chuckle. Not unusual, one might say, but he was alone so one wasn't here to judge. He opened his eyes with almost a painful effort. They had probably tried to keep him asleep but the drugs were already being attacked by his body. He kept giggling every once in a while as his eyes shifted from one spot in the room to another. This was getting better. They had moved him to another room, one as plain as his cell, but he still recognized it as the infirmary. This bed had restraints as well, but they fit tighter around his wrists and ankles and were sure to keep him down for quite a while. His hair had fallen into his face, showing him the ugly brown more closely. Oh, he hated it. He hated his hair, doctor Annoying and most of all, he hated bears. Teddy bears in particular. He had never been allowed one, no, that's not correct. John hadn't been allowed one. He and John were two different people. John was caring and loving. Joker was inattentive and aloof on the subject of love. Though he begged to differ whenever his bat was mentioned. He had a special place in his heart for him.

The door opened and doctor Annoying entered with a smile. It wasn't a smile the Joker was glad to see. Why wasn't he afraid of him? He felt like tearing him apart just so he would stop smiling and being nice to him.

"Jack." The doctor said, looking at him with a questioning expression.

"So you're finally introducing yourself?" Joker asked uninterested. He was tired of being tied down. He needed to stretch his legs every once in a while and his bladder was making its presence known as well.

"No. My name is Robert Rossdale. I was wondering if the name 'Jack' means anything to you." Doctor Annoying Rossdale said as calm as ever. Jack. Jack. Jack. Jack. Again that name, but no.

"An old henchman of mine, what's it to you?" Joker asked suspiciously. If they were looking for his hideouts, too bad for them because he felt like he could trust Jack. Not that he remembered him. He vaguely remembers brown eyes, but that's it. It goes no further than brown eyes filled with pain and a hint of despair. Not uncommon with his henchmen.

"I see, you were muttering his name for a good half hour. Something else too, but I couldn't hear." He told him. Joker snorted and looked up at the doctor with a skeptical eye. Sure. He looked for a moment longer, studying Rossdale's expression a little longer. He was hiding something.

"What's the point of all this?" Joker asked. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't laughing and he really needed a laugh now. He had to escape and kill Rossdale before the doc killed him with boredom.

"I want to help you." Doctor Annoying Rossdale stated. Joker finally laughed. He wanted to help him! So cliché. He started fidgeting ever so slightly, working on getting out of his restraints.

"That's a good one, but an old one too." Joker told him with as big a grin as he could muster. He shook the ugly brown strands out of his face and smiled up at the doctor who returned it with a smaller version of the Joker's own smile. Less taunting and frightening, but a smile was a smile. And he didn't like seeing it on Rossdale's face. It was mocking him. Doctor Rossdale took a chair and placed it next to his bed, Joker kept working his wrists this way and that though. Never halting, continuing onward until he would finally be free and kill him. Kill. Kill. Kill the bloody doctor with the very chair he was getting comfortable in. He didn't deserve the chair! He needed to kill him!

"I want to do a surgery." Doctor Rossdale started.

"That's nice. Do you have a degree? You might consider getting into plastic surgery, practice on yourself first though." He told him, scrunching up his nose while he studied the man's face more closely.

"No, I want you to get permanent colour lenses." He told him. Joker just looked at him, lost in thought. He wanted to modify him to his likening. He had already coloured his hair without his consent, why bother telling him this? If he really wanted to do it, he would have already done it! What did he think? That his mental state would 'improve' after a few surgeries and 'adjustments'? It made him laugh. So he laughed like there was no tomorrow. This, at last, got a reaction out of the doctor who seemed to be taken aback. Oh, Rossy should have known the giggling clown would laugh and laugh until his tummy hurt. The voices in his head were laughing along with him, seeing the funny side of this situation for once.

"Why so serious, doc?" Joker asked through his laughter. "Next you're going to make me bake in the sun to get a tan." He said, making himself laugh even louder at the sheer thought of it.

"I was actually thinking of a nose job." Doctor Rossdale said way too serious for the Joker's likening. The clown stopped laughing, but his smile stayed frozen upon his lips. As genuine as ever, it stayed there in an unconscious attempt to taunt the man in front of him.

"There's nothing wrong with my nose. I rather like it." He said turning his head away from the man to show him his profile. "A bit crooked, I admit, but it has character." He told him with an ear-splitting grin.

"That's exactly the problem. It has character. _Your_ character." So he really did want to change him. Too bad he wasn't into cosmetic surgeries. He had finally gotten his hand free and started with the other one. It was positioned on the doctor's side, if he managed to free it, it wouldn't go unnoticed. The absence of syringes was a welcoming change in the presence of doctor Annoying, but he was still in Arkham. This meant that getting a sedative wasn't hard at all. Ah what was he talking about, he was the Joker! His body had probably already adjusted to the stuff they gave him earlier anyway. He started to wiggle carefully, looking for any reaction to his movements.

"There's also nothing wrong with my character." Joker protested. He pretended to try and find a more comfortable position while getting free of the strap binding him. Finally. He quickly reached up and took the doctor's head in his hands. He pulled him closer, ignoring the hands covering his. "I'm not joking around, you know." He told him before banging the doctor's head against the railing of the bed repeatedly until Rossdale's hands fell away from his. He quickly untied his feet and jumped off of the bed, stumbling as he did so. As promised, he took the abandoned chair up and started bashing it against the still figure laying on the ground. If the onslaught hadn't killed him, he wouldn't be as lucky next time.

Getting to the hall wasn't as hard as getting out of the building would be, but he knew his way around so he went to the storage room to get his clothes before setting out to get away from there. He found the box with his name on it. It stood there on the floor, abandoned, as if it had been waiting for him. He laughed quietly and rummaged through its contents. He pulled out his suit and switched his Arkham uniform for the purple costume. He looked at the window in the room and cocked his head to the side in thought. It was a small window and he hadn't tried climbing through that one yet. He created a small tower of boxes and started climbing. Oh this was so much fun! The boxes were for leverage purpose only, so he didn't really mind if they gave way under his weight. To his luck, they held on pretty well. A few dents and a cracking sound later, Joker managed to get through the window and onto the large yard surrounding the asylum. He looked down and inside the basement-like storage room. The cracking sound had come from within one of the boxes. Too bad. He shrugged and ran for the gate where his freedom lay behind. He would have to find green hair dye soon. Or at least bleach.

He ran until he reached a park at the edge of Gotham city. The voices were talking to him now so he started walking to clear his head.

He was walking, escaping from the voices telling him to ravage through the city and plunder it of its silence. He was walking, wanting to be alone just this once. He looked up at the starless night sky. A murky dark grey greeted him and he adored it. Treasured it. He imagined smoke clogging up his view and he closed his eyes, thinking of the smell of burning buildings. The silence of the night, so unusual, but there nonetheless. It was a foreign comfort as it settled deep within his bones. It made him want to take deep breaths to try and gain more out of the refreshing feeling the night was giving him, but he knew all he would inhale was the polluted air of Gotham's cars. So he kept walking.

He was walking.

 _"There's no escaping."_ A voice told him. He turned around with a cocked eyebrow, barely concealing his amusement. However, upon turning, he saw there was no one. He was all alone. But he wasn't walking.

"Sure. Though I'm the one haunting you, remember?" He told himself, since he presumed it was just one of the voices talking to him again.

 _"You're killing yourself by killing me."_ The same voice said. He chuckled and shook his head in growing amusement. He eyed the ground before shifting his eyes towards the streetlights illuminating him a path through the park.

"My, which one are you anyway? I don't think I've heard you before." He asked with a smile. The voice sounded less demanding and hadn't cursed him to hell yet. A pity. He huffed. Of course it couldn't be all fun and play, ey?

 _"You know me, Joker."_ It told him. Joker looked to his right, there was a river there. It was whispering to him, telling him come over and say hello. Which he did.

"I'll have to disappoint you, chap. But if you're about done, I wanted some peace and quiet." Joker said, approaching the river. His eyes were glued to the one spot where the moon didn't reflect. It was dark and shaded by trees. Joker kneeled down and looked at the water and into his own eyes, avoiding the sight of his hair.

 _"You see that?"_ The voice asked him. He stared into his eyes. So inhuman. _"Those weren't our eyes."_ It said quietly. Joker tore his gaze away from the reflection and looked at the trees next to it instead. His eyes still locked on the water.

"It's just me now." Joker told the voice. His eyes caught some stray lights the moon reflected, making his eyes appear a phosphorescent green. They seemed to be glowing, so he closed them. The moment he did, he felt two hands push him forward and into the freezing water of the river. It swallowed him hungrily and pulled him down further and further until he forced his eyes open. The only thing that remained was a peaceful floating feeling, pulling him down and away into another realm.

He looked around curiously as the world around him morphed into another one. Green. Everything was green. Suddenly his skin started burning, his insides were boiling. He tried to curl in on himself, but the water was restricting him.

Above him, a looming shadow stood over him. Joker reached out, but it turned and walked away, its cape hovering over the surface for a few seconds longer. Never touching it.

He screamed. His lungs stung, but he made no move to try and get out of the green water before it drowned him.

 _"You see that?"_ The same voice from before asked again. Joker was beyond enraged now. He started thrusting upwards to get out of there as fast as possible. _"It's not just you. It's me…"_ It told him. The voice was starting to get a determined tone now. _"It's me who has come back."_ It said and all went quiet. Joker stopped struggling against the rapidly freezing water. The green hue lost its colour until he was surrounded by dull greys and blacks, a round white orb was the only light source. The moon.

He floated for what felt like an eternity until something seemed to pull him up. He felt his eyes closing before he could see the source of this ominous pulling sensation tugging at his shoulders, insisting he should cooperate and get himself out of the river in which he had found himself stuck in. Before slipping into the land of darkness and limbo, he tried to pull away from the assault on his shoulders and arms. He was perfectly fine. He just needed some rest and where else was he going to get it if not inside a river at the edge of Gotham city? He felt his hands refusing to work with him and once he broke surface, awareness was sucked out of him along with the water within his lungs.

John. He felt himself scowling unwillingly. Jack. Jack had come back.

Jack Doe, he would call the voice from now on.

 **TO BE CONTINUED**


	3. Chapter 3

He watched him scowl for a second longer before laying him down upon the grass. Its green so prominent in comparison to the pale skin and dark brown hair of the Joker. Batman stared at the pale face of his enemy. From further away, the Joker had looked like any ordinary man taking a stroll in the park. Batman had been standing on a nearby building, catching a glance of the brown haired man staring at the river. Only when he had seen the man plummet into the dark depths of the water, did he catch the purple hue of the suit the man was wearing. What looked like a suicide attempt by a simple man who had given up life in the rotten city, Gotham was, appeared to be false. Nothing unusual, Batman had thought. He jumped off of the building and landed in the park where he ran the few feet to the river. He caught the green glint in the water below and realized who was buried within the river's dark contents.

"Joker." Batman tried to speak forcefully, attempting to snap the man out of his dazed state before the unusual green eyes had closed. Brown tinted drops were sliding from the Joker's hair down to his jaw where they disappeared down to his neck. His hair had been dyed recently, Batman took note. He held his hand under the clown's nose and waited for the gust of air, telling him Joker was still breathing. When he felt it, he started slapping his cheek, trying to revive him.

"nng" Joker groaned softly. His head twitched to the side, but it bounced back just as quickly. Batman took the Joker's head in his hands to try and steady him as he woke up. "Jean…" The word faded along with his breath. Batman strained to hear him, but it made no sense to him and thus decided it'd be more sensible not to try and understand the Joker's insanity-riddled mind. "Jeanie." A hostage? Batman pondered the matter over and decided to question it the moment Joker woke up. That was, until the clown said, "Jack."

"Joker." The vigilante tried again. He couldn't wait. He was still holding the Joker's head, but he felt him starting to strain against his hands.

"Baby." The clown muttered. The word, so clearly spoken, made him bite back an angry growl of frustration. Batman felt rage boiling within him. The lunatic had either taken a couple hostage or had killed them along with their baby. He was not going to be playing any games tonight.

"Joker, what did you do?" He asked, shaking the clown's head forcefully. Joker's eyes snapped open, staring directly into the slits of Batman's cowl. "The baby. What did you do to it?" Joker didn't look away, nor did he laugh like the vigilante had expected he would.

"Doe killed it." Joker said. His gaze never strayed away, instead, the Joker's green orbs stayed focused on the bat in front of him. Staring unblinking as if in a trance.

"Doe?" Batman asked, almost forgetting to take his hands away from the clown's head.

"Jack Doe." Joker answered, transfixed by the blue eyes behind the white cloth of the cowl.

"Joker." He warned the clown, but it had no effect.

"Jack Doe killed him. The car's brakes had been malfunctioning for some time." Joker spoke, nodding in agreement to a voice Batman couldn't hear.

"Joker, what are you talking about?" Batman moved to stand up, but purple gloved hands came up to hold him in place.

"Jack knew about the brakes." Joker's eyes seemed to be tearing up. Bruce could only stare at his enemy as he broke down over something he couldn't even begin to understand. "He killed my wife, my son." Joker shook his head now, trying to shake away something Batman couldn't see. "I killed them both." He said at last. His voice barely heard. Batman just stared down at the man. "You." Joker focused back on Batman, his eyes settling onto the white slits once more. "Thank you." The clown said. Still, there was no malice-filled grin. There was no laughter. There was only pain and suffering. Bruce was confused and blaming his current predicament fully on Joker and his jokes. He was almost certain the clown was playing one of his mind games now. He just had to figure out what he was after this time. The only effect it was having on him was a growing confusion he couldn't contain above the levels of rationality, something Joker lacked according to anyone who met him, though contrary to popular belief, rationality was something the Joker was the personification of. The sheer notion would make anyone feel -and rightfully so- _offended_. However, the embodiment of sanity was the very person who was deemed insane merely because he couldn't handle the deeper hankerings of the 'shadow' that lives in any man. The Joker was just as sane as any person, perhaps even more so. Mania's fuel is sanity after all. Joker's fuel was mania.

Seeing the Joker in his current state only confirmed Bruce' theories. _This_ was insanity. This precious moment of clarity present in the Joker's head would be the hope for any doctor to be able to cure madness. Sadly, the doctors didn't know they'd be trying to extinguish a flame that shouldn't be extinguished in the first place.

"Joker, I need you to focus." Batman started. When he got no response other than the searching gaze trying to pierce through his cowl, he continued, "Do you know where you are?" Batman asked. He didn't attempt to move for the fear he would only make Joker's current condition worse. The Joker, who finally showed signs of hearing him by turning his head this way and that, nodded slowly. The clown's eyes fell on the river beside them and realization seemed to hit the clown like smilex on a Sunday morning. The only missing this was the smiles and the laughter.

"The park. I…" He halted and tilted his head to the side. He let go of Batman's arms and shook his head as if to clear it. "Arkham, Rossdale." He spoke with animosity.

Robert Rossdale. Bruce had done all the research he could regarding the new doctor in Arkham, the doctor was top of his class in psychology. Unfortunately, the man lacked the needed empathy to be able to work anywhere but Arkham asylum. How the man passed was beyond even Bruce Wayne. Heck, how Harleen Quinzel had passed was an even greater mystery.

"Do you remember jumping into the river?" Batman asked suddenly. Truly, he wanted to know.

"Oh, would _you_ like to know." Joker started smiling. He pushed himself off of the ground, a grin forming on his lips. Batman backed away, but not too far away should the clown try and get away.

"I'm going to get you back to Arkham." Batman told him. He got up and grabbed the clown's arm, pulling him up after him.

"Come now, Batsy, I just broke out." Joker said with a laugh. "Can't allow you to put me in a box already." He tested Batman's hold on his arm, his eyes glinting in amusement when he felt him tense his arm against the Joker's movement.

"Doctor Rossdale is your doctor, ri-…" Batman stopped speaking when Joker started snarling at the mention of the doctor.

"Doctor _Annoying_ is probably dead." Joker stated with renewed anger blazing behind green eyes. "If he isn't, I'll make sure to fix that." He said. His smile had turned into a disapproving frown by now and the tugging had increased tremendously. A well-aimed kick made Batman lose his grip on the clown's arm, but Joker didn't run. He just stood there. Fuming. "Look at what he did." He said through gritted teeth. "Look!" He shouted, tensing up. Joker's posture had him hunching over, making him appear much smaller than he actually was. Now, he stood at full height with tightly clenched fists. It made Batman aware of just how tall the other was. He knew the joker was 6'5", which was a staggering height in comparison to the average citizen of Gotham city. Batman himself was 6'2", but the difference in height wasn't all that noticeable.

"Joker, I don-…" Again, he was cut off by the clown,

"He wanted to change me." Joker said, his eyes bright and suddenly filled with determination. "He can't." Joker smiled eerily. "Couldn't." He corrected himself.

"He's probably just trying to help you." Batman told him to which Joker snorted in mock-amusement. His eyebrows were drawn together in scepticism while his smile, albeit forced, was still present. Batman took out a pair of bat-shaped handcuffs and took on a defensive stance in case the Joker decided to attack.

In a split second, a forced smile turned folly. Yellowed teeth came from behind blood red lips as they parted in a way Batman had seen countless of times before. It was an unsettling sight, but a familiar one. Joker seemed to catch the same kind of nostalgic-ness hanging in the atmosphere, dangling in the air around them while they waited for either of them to move first. Each daring the other in silence. Blue eyes never strayed from their piercing glare while green ones flicked this way and that, never quite focusing on one thing.

"Admit it, just as much as you complete me, _I_ complete _you_." Joker said ending the phrase with a knowing smile. Batman growled lowly. The clown's words caused his mind to start reeling though, what would break one into obsession driven madness? The Joker was obsessed beyond what was healthy, the man had slaughtered thousands of people for what? Him, Batman? He looked up again, Joker was gone. Disappeared. Batman straightened back up, surveying the area. There was no one. He hadn't heard Joker leave, nor had he seen anything despite having trained his eyes on him for the entirety of the time the man had been there. His previous train of thought picked up again, heading off in a different direction full of 'what if's'.

What if it wasn't madness but something else brought forth from the depths of the mind caused by despair, masking itself as folly thoughts woven into a merciless world full of uncertainty. Or simply put, confusion and the mind's attempt at trying to keep both hands on the wheel. Not insane, just too sane. Headed towards a certain goal but seeing it fall apart and thus creating chaos. Or was it the mind's obsession leading one to actually reform reality in one's head? Did madness actually exist at all? What if it's just a state of mind, temporary blinded by lies they told themselves because society wanted them to. Or was it really just an obsession turned insanity? Batman could only try and guess, but it was fruitless without someone knowing the answers and he doubted even Alfred would be able to provide them.

So he left to ponder further upon the matter inside the coziness of Wayne manor.

 **TO BE CONTINUED**


	4. Chapter 4

_"He's insane."_

 _"A disgrace."_

 _"A lunatic."_

 _"He's not human."_

Funny thing. He's not human. A loud cackle was heard, one of mirth and amusement at the words the voices had been shouting at him over the past half hour or so. His lunacy filled laughter only added to his own disadvantage as the voices started getting rather lose tongues. That wouldn't do, now would it? He stood up from his seat and walked towards the front door. Or he tried, so to speak, he bumped into something along the way. Something his poor vision couldn't recognize in his current state. A thoughtful frown found its way on his face and edged a confused impression inside his eyes before it vanished. He would have to throw whatever he ran into out as soon as he felt like it.

 _"Silly creature can't even walk straight."_ A voice said.

 _"Just look at that face, all mangled and torn."_ Another voice commented. He started giggling at the pitiful state he had found himself in. He looked down at his hands, bloodied and dirty.

 _"A normal human being would have died."_ A voice started. A female this time. He felt the soft touch of a hand caress his left cheek. _"Just what are you?"_ The voices were starting to get louder. His head was hurting. Why was it hurting? He shook his head to rid himself of the incessant sounds of whispering and shouting. Unfortunately, his attempt at relief only resulted in a bout of dizziness.

"I'm…" He started, working his dry mouth into forming the words he had been wanting to throw back at the voices. To answer them and clarify what they couldn't understand. The thing was, he didn't understand it either.

 _"A pitiful monster."_ A voice spit out, venom dripping from each word. Such nasty words. He shook his head once more.

"I'm not…" He swallowed thickly. "I'm not a monster." He managed to say before laughter filled the silence born out of anticipation. Only, it wasn't his.

 _"Silly silly silly."_

 _"Thinks he's a comedian."_

 _"Silly."_

Joker had taken refuge in one of his hideouts and the voice, Jack, who had started bickering at him had brought some friends along for the 'ride'. At first, Joker thought sleep would be the best option and it was, for a couple of hours until Jack woke him up. He wanted to go for a walk, but it was noon and he really wasn't in the mood of being seen. He pressed his forehead against the front door, it was made of metal and cool to the touch. It felt so nice. He looked at the shadow he was creating on the door for a moment longer before closing his eyes.

 _"It's time to go, Joker."_ Jack's voice sounded from behind him, but he knew it was all in his head. Joker just chuckled wearily. When had he started to feel so bad anyway?

 _"You think he's going anywhere?"_

 _"He can't even stand!"_ A particular loud voice shouted mirthfully.

Wait. How had he gotten on the floor? Joker looked up at the door in confusion, feeling betrayed somehow. He resigned and sat back, positioning himself against the door so he could relish the coolth of it for a bit longer.

He sat there for an unknown period of time, dozing and absently listening to the fight inside his mind. The voices were yelling at him, but he pretended they were talking about someone else, preferably doctor Annoying. But he wasn't really following anything they were saying, he was merely hearing them. Joker finally fell into a light slumber against the door, dreaming of bars and men forcing him to wear a red hood after being told of the death of someone he ought to know or at least recognize by name, but didn't. The announcement of the news brought forth an immense wave of grief and pain, but he couldn't even begin to comprehend why. Heck, he had trouble placing the emotions in the first place.

"Mistah J!" Harley's voice sounded from a distance he would rather keep. The annoying squeak in her voice lingered unpleasantly and he felt something on his shoulder, but the feeling along with the muffled sound of shuffling faded away, leaving him in a place he should remember. Looking down, he was entranced by the swirl of green liquid inside various vats. Even through the red hue, the green was as clear as the black shadow across from him. Its pointy ears were turned towards him and only then did he see the shadow was looking down the railing and towards the liquid he had been enchanted by. Joker looked at the vat underneath the black clad shadow. He took a step back at what he saw. There was a person inside. He was being pulled along with the current of the vat's automatic stirring. A mechanism he wasn't sure was needed if the liquid was what it smelled like. Chemical waste. Joker could only stare at the figure underneath the surface, a bright red object was pulled over the person's head, Joker noted. With a start he realized that person was him. The red object was the hood he was currently wearing. There was no warning for what happened next. The red hue disappeared to give way for green and his body felt like it was on fire. It was burning him alive. He fought to concentrate on the feeling of trying to orient himself and find which way was up. He tried to relax as much as the pain allowed him to. When his eyes flicked to a shadow above him, he opened his mouth, attempting to speak.

 _"Bats."_ He tried to say, but it came out as a gurgled sound. Ingeniously, Joker jumped up and gripped the edge of the vat. He was not going to be drowned. Not this time.

 _"You're going to save us?"_ Joker heard Jack ask softly.

"I'm not going to fail this time." He muttered through gritted teeth. Joker pulled himself up with his arms, trying to get out of the sticky chemicals. It had eaten through his skin, bleached it white. He smiled at the familiar sight of his green hair as it fell in front of his eyes.

 _"No. Joker, look down."_ Jack told him. Joker ignored him though and scraped his feet on the inside of the vat, trying to get some sort of leverage on the slippery, metal, surface.

"Almost." He muttered. He turned quickly and hoisted himself onto the rim where he sat stiffly, trying not to fall forward and into the enormous bowl of green waste. He looked down, wondering why Jack wanted him to look.

 _"You see that?"_ Jack asked. Joker narrowed his eyes, searching for something, anything. _"Those weren't our eyes."_ Again this? Joker sighed and manoeuvred himself away from the contents below him, jumping off of the metal bowl where he hit the hard floor.

"Mistah J!" Again, Harley's voice. Joker growled in frustration, looking around. Oh, how he wanted to hit something, or a certain _someone_. If only he knew where her voice was coming from.

 _"You see that?"_ Jack asked again. Joker looked around. His reflection was nowhere to be seen. _"It's not you. It's me who has come back."_ Joker felt a push against his shoulders. This time, he was prepared and turned around to grab the hands. His piercing green eyes bore into brown orbs filled with determination and devastation. No. The devastation he saw was his own.

"If you wanted a one-on you should have just asked. No need to attack me from behind." Joker told the brown haired man. "Who are you?" He asked at last.

"Jack." Jack told him. Joker shook his head and laughed. The sheer hilarity of the situation was getting too much. Joker felt tempted to just kill the man before he had another chance to speak. But Jack was faster. "I'm Jack Napier." He told him. Joker's laughter died down fairly fast after that.

"Please, Mistah J!" Harley. Joker felt Jack's hands pushing him backwards where he felt a railing dig into his lower back. Looking over his shoulder, Joker saw the same chemical-filled vat he had just escaped from. How had he even gotten up there again?

"Harley!" Joker called out, pushing back against Jack's strong hold. "Harley, pooh!" He yelled almost angrily. Why wasn't she there yet? Joker kicked out at Jack, but he dodged as he if knew what he had planned to do.

"Can't you see?" Jack asked, tearing his hands away from the Joker. Joker took in the other's appearance, taking note of the dark brown suit he was wearing. Looking down at himself, Joker noted the absence of his own purple suit. "I'm you and you are me." Jack said. Joker didn't laugh. He didn't feel like it. He turned away from Jack and closed his eyes, trying to come to terms with the sudden silence inside his head. Two warm hands rested on his shoulders, lingering for a while before pushing him down for a chemical bath. This time, Joker didn't fight the green substance. He became one with it. Entwined with it as it swallowed away the shadow of Jack lurking above the vat for a little longer before turning. Joker watched Jack's coat hovering above the water, never touching it. Accepting this was his fate, Joker closed his eyes and floated away from what he hoped was existence.

* * *

Joker opened his eyes blearily looking at the ceiling. He heard the sound of shuffling, but he paid it no attention. He was more concerned about the state of the ceiling. It was barely holding up! How had he ended up there anyway?

"Mistah J?" He heard next to him. Joker turned his head to the left and smiled. He remembered now.

"I'm sorry, miss. But you're wrong." He told her. He sat up on the bed he couldn't remember getting into and regarded the room silently. He shook his head and closed his eyes in exhaustion.

"You had a terrible fever. It broke last night." Harley told him to which Joker looked up with raised eyebrows. Impressive. He had no recollection of feeling ill. Well, he _had_ felt bad before passing out on the floor, but not feverish. He stood up and headed for the door, Harley followed him with her eyes. Blue orbs full of concern and love. Joker felt bad suddenly, not physically, but mentally. He had broken this woman. He had manipulated her mind into loving him. "Where are you going, puddin?" She asked. Joker turned away from her and considered his next words. He decided it didn't matter anymore so he turned back towards her calmly. She flinched away although his movements were anything but aggressive.

"Not mister J, not pudding," He told her carefully. "I'm Jack." He watched her eyes carefully, looking for anything, "Jack Napier." He added. When Harley could only stare at him with a mixed expression of uncertainty and perplexity, Jack turned away from her and walked out of the room.

He never looked back as he walked straight out of the abandoned building and into the night.

It wasn't Joker. It was Jack. Jack had come back.

 **A/N: Alright, so this can go either way right now. I either leave it at this (my initial intentions) or I could continue this and drag it on where Batman/Bruce finds him and has the choice to help Jack or bring back Joker. _(I have no concrete plans on who's going to end up staying so you guys might as well have a hand in that too)_**

 **That is, if y'all want me to continue this.**


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